Like Oil On My Hands
by Hams
Summary: Erik's thoughts keep Charles up at night. Charles/Erik.


It's been weeks since Erik first came with him to the Institute and Charles knows that really, it's just a matter of time before Erik leaves.

He doesn't need telepathy to know what Erik is feeling, it shows in the lines of his face, the curve of his body.

When Erik sleeps, more and more fitfully as time goes on, he projects the same feelings in his dreams as he had the first night Charles met him, tossed by the ocean while trying to bring down a submarine with his bare hands. Charles had held him tight, anchoring him against himself, breathless with the sheer will of this man's mind.

_Lost._

Erik's thoughts wake Charles up and keeps him up, but he doesn't have the heart to block Erik out.

Charles knows Erik is not lost, he knows exactly where he should be and it's with him. But Erik can't see that, Erik can only see where he wants to be. He wants to be out there, wants to be with Shaw, with one hand around Shaw's neck and his coin in the other. And Charles knows if it comes down to it- when it comes down to it- Erik will choose revenge. It pains him, but not as much as it hurt when he touched that part of Erik's mind. When he waded through the anger and anguish, into the empty motel rooms, beyond the men killed along the way- and saw that little boy and his mother and candles in the dark. And Charles wishes he couldn't forgive Erik for everything he has done, but he does, _he does_. It is the same feeling that makes him hold his breath as he enters the library each night and finds Erik sitting by the chess board, waiting for him, and he can breathe again because Erik is still there.

Charles is worried he's the one keeping Erik prisoner now and is ashamed that he is not sorry at all. He feels Erik's restlessness, feels it in his own chest like the fluttering of a caged bird. Charles knows what he's doing when he puts a tender hand on Erik's shoulder, when he offers a small smile that evolves into a wide grin when Erik returns it. He calls Erik "my friend," and often, because how can Erik be anything besides that?

He feels the hesitation in Erik. He is on guard with the others, though he never complains about helping them train or repairing things destroyed by the training. But when the two are alone, together, the easiness is warm, soaking through like sunlight. It comes soft and light, and the two look at each other, and understand perfectly. For brilliant moments in time, Erik is not nearly as damaged as Charles knows he is and Charles is clumsy and foolish like he knows he isn't but lets his heart trip over itself in his chest anyway because he doesn't know any other way.

Though they play chess often, Erik does not understand that he is a pawn to his own power and it troubles Charles. Erik's life is marked by it, the birth of his powers and the rise of it through destruction. He is driven by that same single-minded rage. Charles tries his best, tries to help Erik harness his power by using different memories. _Love_, Charles thinks to him telepathically, _love is stronger than you think, Erik_. Erik laughs at him but he is able to move the satellite dish. He looks startled, even as his eyes become wet. Charles cries with him and it feels like hope.

Charles has never met anybody like Erik before and he is fascinated by him. Erik has a beautiful mind when he allows Charles in to see it. There is darkness there, yes, but also happiness. There was happiness once, and maybe happiness now. There is an aching fondness for him there and it makes Charles' head feel weightless with the lightness of it. When Charles touches Erik, he tries to show him this. He tries to project all the love he can bear and hopes that Erik can somehow process it and feel it too because he deserves to.

One night, John F. Kennedy makes an announcement. They all know Shaw is close.

When Erik comes to his room, Charles sets down his book.

"Charles," Erik says. His voice is low.

"Are you alright, my friend?" Charles asks, sitting up in bed.

Erik doesn't say anything, just comes to the edge of his bed and sinks to his knees.

"Erik," Charles says, worried, "Erik, what's wrong?"

"Why don't you read my mind and find out?"

Charles winces and shakes his head, "I told you I would never do that. I'd rather hear it from you of your own volition." He touches Erik's hand.

"I know," Erik says with a heavy sigh, "I trust you." He doesn't move his hand. Erik's chest is heaving gently beneath his shirt, the angle of his shoulders is tight.

"And I trust you," Charles tells him, firmly. Honestly.

Erik grips Charles' hand in his and it startles Charles, but he doesn't let go. (He never will.) The clock on the bedside is ticking loudly and Charles doesn't know what else to say. He bites his lip instead as his eyes search Erik's face for the answers he won't look for in Erik's mind.

Erik shakes his head as he rises. "Forgive me," he says, his voice cracking on the syllable, and he kisses Charles.

Charles makes a noise in his throat that he swallows when Erik's body covers his on the bed. Erik's chest is warm and heavy and knocks the breath out of him. Charles' heart races ahead of his mind. He's not sure what Erik means.

Charles breaks the kiss, his chest rising and falling rapidly in the still air. "You don't need me to forgive you," he says, looking up earnestly at Erik. "You never did." He licks his lips as he catches his breath.

Something in Erik's face softens and presses his mouth back to Charles like he may never have another chance. Erik's thoughts drift by Charles and he promised not to read them but he can still feel them, and they are warm and sincere.

Charles closes his eyes and kisses Erik, too, desperately. His hands come up to Erik's face and he holds him like he's wanted to hold him. Erik's stubble is rough on his fingers and his hands are rough on his skin as they slip under Charles' night shirt.

Charles arches against the hands running up his back and he pulls Erik close to him, pushing their lips together so hard that they hurt and burn with the pressure. Erik kisses him fiercely, his tongue sliding against Charles' in a way that makes him hard faster than when he was a boy. He smiles into the kiss, nearly laughing at the way Erik is kissing his teeth now, and suddenly Erik is thinking so loudly that Charles can't help but pick up the bits and pieces. The smile slips off his face.

Charles pulls away, lips swollen and breathing deeply as he looks at Erik under tightly drawn brows. He swallows and presses his lips together, his eyes darting between Erik's. He thinks he knows, now, what he meant by forgiveness. Erik seems to think so too, the way he can't keep Charles' gaze. Charles' mind is blank for once. Erik bows his head, the tip of his nose bumping against Charles' and slowly, his lips part before he claims them again.

It is needy now. Erik pulls at their clothes and Charles helps before being pressed back into the bed. Erik's bare chest is hot and hard against his own and Charles grips his arms as he grinds into him.

Charles can feel Erik's cock moving against his and he lets out a moan. Erik's hands are on his chest, at his waist, between his legs. And Charles lets him, throwing his head back against the pillows with a hiss when a mouth joins the hands.

_Erik_, Charles thinks because he is panting too hard to speak, _Erik, please_-

Erik takes his cock into his mouth.

When they fuck, it is in spurts of passion, with Erik's mouth hot and insistent and Charles' mouth open underneath his, Charles' legs open underneath him. He kisses him and kisses him and Charles can barely think and only feels, feels Erik's cock deep inside him and moving. His thighs wrap around Erik and his arms wrap around the headboard to hold himself steady.

When Charles comes, it's with a hitched shout and he leaks all over his belly, chest heaving still in the afterglow. Erik comes soon after. His breaths are short bursts against Charles' neck.

He lifts himself off and kisses Charles on the forehead lightly and he can still feel it afterwards, on top of his sweat dampened hair. The warmth he was feeling from Erik earlier is completely gone. It is being hidden from him.

They lay silent for a long time. Charles wants to hold him, but can't.

_Lost_ is radiating off of Erik in waves, even without telepathy, even with Erik trying to suppress it.

Charles heart sinks and he knows. He knows Erik's chosen Shaw. He realizes he can't anchor Erik, he never could. There is no space for him, Erik is consumed. Charles isn't enough. He isn't even close and he is not sure which is worse, that he could never be or that he once thought he was.

"I have to," Erik tells him when he stands to go.

"I know," Charles says with a wry smile, even as he feels his eyes sting. "I know, my friend."_ I know everything about you._

Erik kisses him again and Charles bites the inside of his cheek. It is all he can do from striking him and shouting into his face, "Don't you _dare_ do this to me, Erik! Don't you _dare_ throw this away!"

Instead, he hopes. Maybe it will be different when the day comes.

_Love is stronger than you think, my friend._

Charles isn't strong enough to bear it alone though he is weak enough that he can't let it go.


End file.
